


Breakfast

by nervousalligator



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jonathan-can-never-seem-to-be-able-to-make-breakfast-before-being-distracted trope, Like you can't have one without the other in this ship, Oral, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 14:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervousalligator/pseuds/nervousalligator





	Breakfast

It’s a beautiful, sunny saturday morning Jonathan thinks as he flips another pancake over the stove, leaning back to take in some of the warming rays coming in through the kitchen window. The house is completely quiet save for the relaxing simmer coming from the frying pan. He brushes a few wild bangs out of his eyes and smiles a little to himself as he imagines Nancy’s reaction when he goes to wake her up in his room later with the promise of newly made breakfast - he was hoping she’d like banana.

They’d spent friday night together with his family cooking dinner and watching a movie. His mom was always so excited to see Nancy and they really seemed to be hitting it off, even if she became a bit overbearing at times and Nancy being too polite to tell her that she didn’t need to borrow any sleeping gear, omitting the fact that most clothes tended to end up somewhere else than in his bed anyway. It was difficult, however, to get any sort of real privacy on a night like that.

But today his mom had to work an extra shift and Will was going over to the Wheelers to see his friends for another long-winded DnD session so she would give him a ride there on her way. She’d asked him where Nancy was when he’d stumbled out of his room. He’d told her she was still sleeping and she’d caught herself, quieting down while putting an index finger over her own mouth. After gathering her things she'd told him, in a lower voice, that she’d be back by dinner and then made some allusion to the condoms she kept slipping him - to his great embarrassment - and he'd given her an alarmed look, wondering if she was even aware that Will was standing right next to them. If Will had understood what she was talking about or not he’d never really found out as he made a point to not look his younger brother in the eye. Instead he’d veered the conversation off swiftly to ask them to have a nice day and that he’d do the grocery shopping before she was back.

Now his head bobs lightly in time to the song that’s stuck on his mind at the moment, humming the lyrics and beats. He gets a little carried away and starts to beat his hands to it too - mimicking the motion of a drummer - the spatula in his right hand acting as a perfect substitute for a drumstick. Then the drumstick flings a piece of pancake onto the curtains and he hisses a low “ _Shit_!” as he fumbles for a kitchen towel.

“You know, I usually have my pancakes on _plates_?”

He freezes mid sweep. Looks over his shoulder to see Nancy smiling at him from across the room, arms crossed, leaning on the junction of the kitchen and living room walls. Her head is tilted playfully to the side and…is that one of his flannel shirts she’s wearing? She also seems to have forgotten all about the convention of wearing pants, an arrangement he finds most interesting. Warmth is threatening to spread across his cheeks and he turns back to his mess.

“Never had me make them I see.”

Her soft laugh fills the warm morning air and he feels arms sliding in around his waist. She’s a little too short for him so she has to reach to plant a kiss on the back of his neck, hot breath on skin, and his heart flutters while a chuckle escapes him.

“I guess not,” she smiles against his back. “Did you sleep ok?”

“Yeah,” he nods, turning a pancake over in the pan. He means it. He always sleeps better when she’s with him, even if that still means waking up several times and finally deciding to untangle himself from her before she wakes up because he’s grown tired of trying to fall back asleep when the sun peeks through the blinds into his eyes. “What about you?”

She hums and nuzzles her face in between his shoulder blades. “Mmh…Yeah. It’s just…” 

He stops mid motion with the spatula underneath the pancake when he notices that her hands are moving away from being planted safely on his stomach to the much more dangerous location that is his hips. His breath catches in his throat and the warmth that had been creeping through his body since he first saw her swells, coiling in his middle.

“I woke up and you…you weren’t there.” She curls her fingertips and the tiny motion manages to send sparks through him, jumping straight to his dick. He struggles a bit to clear his throat and finally moves the pancake over to a plate.

“I-I’m sorry? I was making breakfast-” A sudden urge to turn around and kiss her grabs him, but she’s too quick. He has no idea how she does it, but she somehow manages to move him over to the counter away from the stove, slipping in between him and it before anything else and now he finally gets a _good_ look at her. Her dark curls are in a soft disarray from the sleep, framing her lips. His eyes linger there for a moment, his own lips having fallen open slightly, but then her smile turns into a pout and his gaze rises to meet hers.

“I was so alone…” she trails off. Her voice has lowered and slowed down considerably now and he knows _exactly_ what she’s trying to do and at the same time has no idea how she manages to reduce him to this hot mess in such short notice. The emptiness of the rest of the house makes itself painfully known and he swallows hard. “I uh...” he tries but the words are stuck in his increasingly heaving chest. Her smile returns as two of her fingers hook into the belt loops on his jeans and she pulls him closer with a playful hum. For some reason that throws his balance off slightly and he frames her with his hands on the counter on either side of her, bodies now flush against each other. He lets out the tiniest of noises and bites his lip, maybe trying to hold it back.

She shifts against him and if he wasn’t hard already he sure is now, her tiny motions making him throb quite uncomfortably in his pants. He’s pretty sure she’s noticed because she moves one of her hands to pull the spatula out of his - he’d barely registered he was still holding it - and places it on the counter, careful to keep eye contact with him as she does so. Then she grabs one of his hands and starts slipping away. At this point she could pull him over the edge of the world and he’d be fine with it, but his mind clears through the swimming fog for a crucial second.

"B-but pancakes...?"

"It's fine, I turned-”

"Ok," he breathes before she even has the time to finish her sentence. She giggles and tugs on his hand. He follows.

The short walk to his room feels pretty hazy and the only thing he can focus on is the sway in her hips and flirtatious smile hiding behind soft curls. When they get there he stops at the edge of his bed as he hears the door being closed behind him. He turns around to find her head lowered, looking like she’s ready to pounce on him any second. In fact she almost does as she crashes into him and then her lips are finally on his, hot and eager and tongues catching each other and he can’t help but moan breathlessly into her. Another jolt of electricity shoots to his dick at her warm, breathy touch, already incredibly turned on, and he’s not sure he'll last very long the way he thinks this is going. Her hands are roaming over his chest, lining the shape of his shoulders, and he wonders if she’s close enough to tell how fast his heart is beating. He pulls her into him just to be sure.

There’s a tug at the hem of his shirt and he gladly welcomes the gesture, so hot and tight he’s panting quite heavily when they break the kiss to step away from each other. It comes off in one big motion to disappear somewhere irrelevant and then she’s on him again. His hands search to find hers as he sits down on the edge of his bed and she follows, standing before him.

They stop and stare for a moment, his eyes wandering from hers down to her perfectly placed hips and up again. The feathery light is playing over her graceful frame, illuminating the thinning blue in her eyes and the tiny curly hairs straying from her face and _god_ she’s so beautiful his heart just about jumps out of his chest. He’ll have to remember this setup for later, but for now his eyes soften and his hands find their way to her thighs, stroking slowly upwards, curious, wondering. She reaches, brushing her hands against the sides of his face, sliding them into his hair with the faintest approving tug and his hands disappear underneath what’s currently her shirt and then- Oh.

_Oh_.

She's not wearing any panties.

Another jolt. He groans, but tries to twist it into a hum of mild surprise. She giggles lightly, runs her fingers through his hair. Is it possible to come without even being touched? Today might be the day when he finds out.

He reaches for the shirt and unbuttons a couple for easier access and she starts helping him from the other end until it hangs fully open, revealing her soft, pale skin. He looks her over and takes a deep breath before his eyes flutter down, returning to the task at hand.

Running circles with his thumbs on her hip bones he leans forward, planting a kiss on one of them and she breathes audibly, urging him to continue. He obliges and starts working them towards her center until he’s nuzzling her dark curls. She tenses up and moans, fingers coming in tighter in his hair. He’s teetering on the edge a bit, curious but tentative. Not too long ago he’d been exploring this part of her, but stopped after a while, kind of just getting to know her. This time feels…different. Heavier. _Warmer_.

He gently flicks out his tongue, breath hot against her when he realizes how wet she is, and she’s quivering now. Her balance is coming off a bit and he grabs her hips firmly, stabilizing her. She has other plans, though.

"Mmh...wait," she murmurs and pulls away, moves so she’s on the bed beside him, leaning back a bit. He catches on and rise to his feet again before turning on his heel, kneeling before her, settling between her thighs. His hands spread out over them and he steals a look up at her through his wild bangs, suddenly realizing that he quite enjoys being at her mercy like this. She nudges closer to the edge of the bed and he leans in, kissing her inner thigh before burying his face in her curls once more. She falls back with a sigh.

He’s got to admit that his tricks are limited, but he’s very eager to explore, feeling her warmth and the tenderness of her skin and the slickness of the folds in her lips with his tongue. Her taste. It’s intoxicating, but then one of her hands come down and slides in over herself and he moves back a bit. She starts to draw circles, rubbing a particular spot on the side of her clit, and her head falls to the side, eyes closed, biting at her lip. It takes him a few seconds to even realize that she’s on his bed wearing nothing more than his own flannel shirt, masturbating in front of him and he ceases to breathe and his eyes grow wide and his face gets so hot his head might explode and it’s just the most incredible and sexiest thing he’s ever _seen_ and _holy shit, what the hell, fuck fuck fuck_

“ _Fuck_ -” he breathes, thick and barely audible. He never really lost his boner but his dick springs back to life so suddenly and so hard that he follows up with a whimper, squeezing her thighs with more force than he probably should. Her eyes fly open and she looks down at him, face flushed and confused and maybe even a bit embarrassed. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead leans into her, more excited than ever.

After some fine-tuning he finds that particular spot, and he can tell because her breath hitches and her hips arch into him and she lets out these beautiful little keenings and sighs and he makes sure to remember this for next time. She snakes a leg up and lays it on his shoulder, shifting her weight, tensing up. He keeps at it, flicking his tongue and working a couple fingers towards her opening, teasing her.

Then suddenly he hears her whimpering his name into the sheets and he has to pull back, inhaling sharply, then moaning into her helplessly and the vibrations just seem to further her along even more and he feels another wonderful jolt in his pants and it’s like a weird, sexy chain reaction and _fuck_ he’s got to keep it together but if he wasn't so incredibly distracted he’d probably be a little proud of his accomplishment. Her displeased whines and leg tugging on his shoulder quickly brings him back into focus, though.

“Jonathan, don't-? Don't stop,” she whispers urgently and his initial reaction is to apologize, but instead he follows and melds with her once more.

Her breathing is becoming steadily quicker and labored now, keenings turning into heavy moans, her whole body curling into his touch, the air around them so warm and thick, beads of sweat lining his brow and more, more, _more_. The other leg comes up, inviting him further. He picks up the pace tentatively and that seems to do the trick. 

She goes silent suddenly and he’s momentarily confused, but keeps going because the tension in her whole body tells him otherwise. Then she arches sharply and release comes crashing down in waves as she writhes under him, now louder than ever, pulsating rapidly into his mouth-

Ok scratch that, _this_ is the most incredible and sexiest thing he’s ever- _holy shit_

He keeps steady close to her as she comes down slowly, lapping her up, drinking her in. Eventually she shifts and a hand slithers into his hair, stilling him with her soft humming. He sits back and her feet glide off of his shoulders, his eyes wild and hair probably even more so. She searches for him and he wobbles to his feet, suddenly realizing how much pain his knees are in. Worth every second, though.

She’s a beautiful mess when he comes up to greet her with kisses, all of her still on his lips. He’s leaning over her, elbows propped on either side. There’s a soft purr rising in her mouth as one of her legs brush against his side and then he feels a hand caressing up his thigh, palming him through his jeans. A strangled moan finds its way out of him and into her mouth and he deepens the kiss, his hands tangling into her hair. Hers come up to work his jeans off finally, pushing them down just enough to be able to free him from his boxers, still hard, aching from all the overwhelming stimulation. She’s merciful though, doesn’t hesitate to start stroking him and at this point that’s going to be all he needs.

He rolls whimpering over on his side, burying his face in her neck, making all kinds of unheard noises, clinging onto her, hips grinding towards her touch of their own accord as she draws everything out of him. His shortening quips for air intensify by the second and then everything becomes painfully tense and he ceases to breathe as pleasure ripples through him. After a couple of glorious moments he relaxes, throbbing gently in her hand as he too comes down.

When he opens his eyes to look at her she's already smiling at him through thick lashes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he pants, propping himself up a bit. For a couple of moments he’s speechless, but then manages “That was-”

“Incredible?” she finishes.

He blinks himself back into reality. “Yeah.”

They lie there panting and giggling softly for a bit before she shifts and he remembers the mess he’s made on her stomach. “Oh sorry, wait-”

She giggles again and tells him it’s fine as he pulls back and manages to reach far enough under his bed to pull out a roll of paper. When he turns back she has awkwardly tilted her hips as to not spill anything onto the sheets and he quickly rectifies it, pouring more flustered apologies in its stead.

Afterwards they somehow make it back to the kitchen and finish up the pancakes together, still giggling like complete idiots.


End file.
